THE SCOUT ON A DIM TRAIL.
At Fort Phil Kearney Buffalo Bill found orders based on the reports
and recommendations of General Sheridan and other officers that he be
assigned to the duty of learning the fate, if possible, of Lieutenant
Avery and his bride.
The scout’s orders were in detail, so far as the department understood
the case, but he was given much latitude for his own judgment and
experience. From the officer in command of the fort he learned every
assignment of the young officer since he left the military academy; the
report of his trip to Bozeman and his marriage; under whose command he
had been, and of all officers who might in any way have become jealous
of the preference of Avery over themselves. He also heard of the young
officer’s difficulties at Bozeman and of the thrashing of the Indian
agent, Price.
The scout was delighted with that part of Avery’s career which included
the trouncing of Price.
“I should have enjoyed that privilege myself,” he remarked.
Prevailing rumors of Lieutenant Avery’s troubles in the East also came
to Buffalo Bill’s ears, and he immediately set about tracing them to
their source. He heard of the return of the lieutenant’s horse, and the
hint of a ruse to deceive those at the fort.
Buffalo Bill decided shortly that Lieutenant Avery and his girl wife
had either been killed or captured by Indians, or had fallen victims
to the jealousy and hatred of a certain element in the army. From the
persistence of the poisonous rumors he feared that rank treachery among
his brother officers had led to the tragedy.
The scout determined to sift the matter to the bottom, wherever the
blame might fall. He relied implicitly on the good sense and nerve of
Wild Bill. His other pards were all trustworthy in intention, but he
feared they might make a break inadvertently that would put certain
army officers on their guard.
The very next day after the arrival of the scout and his pards at the
fort a party of cavalry had found the carcass of the horse ridden by
Mrs. Avery. Plenty of evidence that the horse had been running toward
the fort when it plunged into the prairie dog’s hole and broke a leg
was discoverable.
The scout decided to visit the scene with his pards. Under special
instructions, Wild Bill was left at the fort to play cards and drink
with the officers. The scout believed Hickok might hear references
to the case which would prove of value later on. He wished also to
know the general feeling among the officers and among the men toward
Lieutenant Avery.
No man was better prepared to obtain such material than the magnetic
Wild Bill. All the officers and most of the men knew the reputation of
both the scout and Wild Bill, but few of them had ever seen the latter.
Wild Bill, standing six feet two in stockings, and built “from the
ground up,” was a man of perfect poise, physically and mentally. He was
quiet, conservative, and unobtrusive in manner, never given to boasting
or indulging in expletives, his strongest expression being “by gorry.”
In fact, Wild Bill was the exact opposite of the typical frontiersman.
Wild Bill loved to play cards, and only the strongest abuse or
cheating could make him lose his temper, and then a few quiet words
from him had settled many disputes that otherwise would have ended in
tragedy.
Old Nomad paid this tribute to his pard:
“Hickok seldom gits mad, but when he does, look out! He don’t say very
much, but when he opens up ev’ry word weighs er ton.”
Wild Bill’s reputation as a dead shot had penetrated every company
of the army, and when the officers saw the tall, wiry, iron-nerved,
steel-eyed scout they believed every word they had heard of his
prowess. No man on the frontier, with the single exception of Buffalo
Bill, was held so much in awe as was Wild Bill Hickok in those days,
and with good cause.
In the finer, keener qualities of mental make-up only did the scout
lead his famous pard. Buffalo Bill possessed an analytical mind and a
natural mathematical sagacity. Wild Bill was practical, level-headed,
and keen; quick as a flash in mind and body, and fear was minus in his
make-up; but he deferred to his leader in matters of difficult solution.
The coyotes had stripped the bones of Mrs. Avery’s horse, but Buffalo
Bill examined them critically. He could discover no other evidence
of wound than the broken leg and bullet hole in the head. The bullet
had not passed entirely through the skull of the animal, and with a
hatchet he removed it. It showed to be a bullet from a .44-calibre army
revolver. This was good evidence that Lieutenant Avery had shot the
animal himself, after it had broken a leg. That the animal had been
running toward the fort at the time of the accident was plain.
And right then the scout’s opinion of Lieutenant Avery advanced many
per cent. A man who would pause under such stress as was apparent at
the time of the accident to put a suffering animal out of its misery
was no coward.
The scout believed also that right then and there the officer had
dismounted from his own horse, which had galloped away, leaving the
young couple afoot on the plain. Who took them away?--that was the part
that must be unraveled. If treachery had been practiced, some one must
suffer; if the officer and his bride had been captured they must be
rescued; if dead, their bodies must be given decent burial.
The next step must be taken from the carcass of the horse. The scout
held a consultation with Cayuse, beyond earshot of the military escort
which had come to point out the place where Mrs. Avery had been thrown
and her horse had ended its days.
Little Cayuse went down on the ground, while the others retired for
some distance toward the fort and left him alone. Over and over the
ground he went, each time broadening his circle, while the others
smoked and watched.
At last the Piute began moving away across the plain, slowly at first
and then faster, until he was going at that tireless lope which only an
Indian trailer can follow.
Buffalo Bill dismissed the army men, caught up Navi’s lariat, and with
his pards galloped after.
The cavalrymen, as they rode away, turned in their saddles and watched
the progress of the strange procession as long as they could see them,
and then hastened on to the fort to report.
“Looky hyar, Buffler; et strikes me we’re gittin’ inter fermiliar
territory--don’t et yeou?” asked Nomad.
“Yes; there is the rock where the yellow-haired girl hailed us,”
answered the scout.
“An’ Cayuse is goin’ plumb centre at et,” continued the trapper.
“Well, we intended to come this way sometime, and we got around sooner
than we expected,” said the scout.
“Mars’ Billyum,” broke in Skibo, “Ah reckon yo’ eyes am better dan dis
yeah niggah’s--don’ yo’ see sumpin’ atop o’ dat mounting?”
The scout looked, and then pulled his field glass.
“There certainly is quite an important something there, Skibo. It is no
less than our yellow-haired girl of beauty and mystery. Perhaps she’ll
invite us to lunch, Skibo.”
“Yah, yah! Mebbe she do, Mars’ Billyum; but Ah specs it’ll take a
pow’ful lot o’ floppin’ for dat dar Nomad to fly up to dat high roost
ob hern.”
“Yer jes’ look out fer yer own floppin’, Mr. Skibo--who ever hearn tell
o’ a nigger with wings, anyhow?”
“I guess if I could get up there with my bugle, Miss Yellow Hair and I
could make the Indians look silly,” said Tootsie.
“Yes, thar ye go ergin! Course ye’ll begin ter make plans, fust thing,
ter git up thar ermong ther pretty gals. Like ernough ther mounting ez
full er yaller-haired angels,” teased Nomad.
As they rode nearer Buffalo Bill saw that the girl on the mountain top
was signaling to them. He could not understand what she was trying to
convey. He thought of Indians approaching from beyond, but he could not
understand the girl’s apparent perturbation. She ran back and forth on
the rock, and waved a cloth at them, and then looked and pointed away
beyond their view, on the other side of the mountain.
When they had reached hailing distance they pulled their horses to a
standstill, and heard the girl cry:
“Go back! Go back! A party of Indians are approaching from the other
side.”
“How many?” asked the scout.
“Nearly a score,” she answered.
“Only four to one,” said the scout; “we have come on an important
mission, and if they mean fight we will entertain them.”
“Oh, sir, I beg you to go back. They are Sioux and bent on mischief, I
feel sure.”
“How near are they?” asked the scout.
“Ten minutes’ ride.”
“Very well; it is only two minutes’ ride for us to the crevasse south
of your castle, and once in there we are willing for them to try their
mischief on us. We thank you, just the same, for your kindly warning.
And again we thank you for your advice the other day; it saved us lots
of trouble and brought us in contact with a child and an old man in
whom you may be interested.”
“Who are they?” the girl asked, although she was manifestly nervous for
the safety of the scout and his pards.
“Black Coyote and his little daughter have been abandoned to starve by
their tribe. I will tell you more when I have time; just now I wish to
get my men and horses where they will be protected from Sioux bullets.”
“By ther great horn spoon an’ granny’s ole tin ladle! I c’u’d lick
twenty Sioux all alone ef she’d luk on an’ cheer fer ole Nick,”
announced Nomad, as he galloped along behind the scout.
The party was barely well below the jagged walls of the fissure when
along the base of the cone thundered the war party of Sioux.
The Indians had seen the white riders enter the cleft some distance
below the mountain where the walls were not so high or precipitous.
They saw, too, the strategical advantages of the position, and were
careful to turn aside when they saw five rifles protruding over the top
of the wall and pointing in their direction.
The Indians halted, and one rode on in front a short distance and then
began riding in a circle.
“He wants to hold a parley,” said the scout.
“I noticed et?” answered the trapper.
“I think I’ll meet him,” said the scout, setting down his rifle and
looking to his revolvers and knife. He led Bear Paw to the place where
they had entered, clambered out on top, and mounted.
“Ef they ’tempt any funny bus’ness we’re goin’ ter make um think et’s
rainin’ red-hot bullets,” shouted Nomad.
The chief who came forward was well mounted, and advanced with a genial:
“How?”
“How?” answered the scout, riding up to the Indian and extending his
hand.
Like a flash the Indian’s knife came out, and he struck at the heart of
the scout.
But as other treacherous Indians had done before him, this one
had miscalculated. He built too much upon his own prowess, and
underestimated that of his antagonist.
Bear Paw was away like a flash, and then back again with a lunge that
knocked the Indian pony almost off its feet. At the same instant the
scout struck the chief’s arm a blow that sent his knife flying through
the air, and, lifting the savage bodily from the saddle, hurled him
backward to the sun-hardened mesa, stunned.
But at sight of this the entire party charged upon the daring white
man, and the battle was on.
The scout put spurs to Bear Paw and dashed back toward the cleft where
his companions were hidden, at the same time, turning in the saddle, he
poured several shots from his revolvers into the scattering, yelling,
shooting savages.
Old Nomad, Skibo, Cayuse, and Tootsie let loose a galling fire from
their rifles, and the charge was of brief duration.
As the Indians wheeled and dashed away beyond the range of the rifles,
Tootsie sounded the “advance” on his bugle.
The Indians immediately huddled together, gesticulating and talking
excitedly.
“Give um ernother sample o’ yer tootin’, Tootsie,” said Nomad.
The boy responded sharply on his horn, keeping well out of sight, and
the Indians were puzzled as to its source. From their actions the scout
judged that it sounded to them as if it came from the top of the butte.
They pointed and looked in that direction, and then back toward the
fissure where the party of whites and their horses were hidden.
“I guess if I had my ghost fixed up it would finish the job,” said
Tootsie.
“Mebbe some o’ them aire ther same fellers ye s’luted berfore,”
suggested Nomad.
“Try them with another ‘advance,’” said the scout.
This was sufficient. The Indians wheeled their horses and dashed away,
in half an hour disappearing beyond a mound of the rolling plain to the
west.
The pards were so intently watching the Indians that they heard no
sound until a voice beside them said:
“Pardon me, sir, may I ask about the old Indian, Black Coyote, and his
child?”
The pards doffed their hats with amusing celerity, and Buffalo Bill,
stepping forward, introduced himself and the members of his party.
“Are you Pa-e-has-ka, the Long Hair, of whom I have heard so much?” she
asked.
“I am Buffalo Bill among the white people of the West,” he answered,
“and the Indians have called me Pa-e-has-ka.”
She extended her hand to him and then to the others.
“I am ‘Little Moonbeam’ to the red people,” she said, “and my only
white friend, Mrs. Sherley, calls me Mona. The red folk regard me as
daughter of the moon and queen of the stars, because my goings and
comings mystify them.”
“An’ I don’t blame ther Injuns, nuther!” interjected Nomad, unable to
conceal his admiration.
The scout then told of the aged Indian and little girl, and their
pitiful condition. If some one did not watch over them, he told her,
they would soon starve. Black Coyote had told him of the queen of the
stars, and had expressed the desire, which he seemed to think hopeless,
that he might communicate with her before he should die.
“He seemed to think the daughter of the moon would care for his
helpless child,” the scout added.
“I will see him before the sun comes over the hills again,” she told
him.
“May we not escort you to the tepee of Black Coyote?” the scout asked.
She smiled indulgently, and answered:
“I should be far safer alone, and I could find the tepee of Black
Coyote in the blackest night, although he does not know it.”
“Perhaps you knew of their troubles,” suggested the scout.
“No; he was well and provided with buffalo meat the last time I was
there--but I have been very busy of late and have not paid them a
visit,” she answered, as if regretting the neglect.
“If you cannot well go to see him now I will visit him in the morning
and provide food for several days, and tell them you are coming,” said
the scout.
“No, I shall go very soon, although I thank you.”
“Very well; it is for you to choose. But we are at your service, my
pards and I.”
“Now that you have performed the errand for Black Coyote you had better
make haste back to the fort,” she said.
“I have a far more important errand,” said the scout.
“Not that I am interested in?” she asked.
“Perhaps so; listen: Several weeks ago a brave young soldier, recently
married to a girl almost as lovely as yourself, went out to ride from
the fort. They never came back, and their people and the Great Father
at Washington are grieved because of it.
“For many days the pony soldiers and walkaheaps have searched the plain
for the missing ones. Now the Great Father has asked me to try to find
the young lieutenant. I have traced him thus far. That is my mission
here. Little Moonbeam, can you give me any word of encouragement or
tell me anything of their fate?”
The girl stood blushing and paling. She was manifestly disturbed by
Pa-e-has-ka’s recital; but she calmed herself with an effort, and
replied in a low voice:
“Pa-e-has-ka has done well to trace the lost soldier and his bride so
far. If his trailers should be able to discover it in the much-trodden
soil beyond, it would lead him on. But Pa-e-has-ka will do well to turn
back and wait with patience.”
“Can Little Moonbeam tell me if both are alive?” the scout insisted.
“Both are alive, although the brave young soldier was pitifully
wounded. But he is recovering, and some day will be allowed to go back
with his bride to their people.”
“May I ask you more?” queried the scout.
“No more now,” she answered. “Go back to the soldier village, and come
again when the moon is round, and I will tell you more.”
“And Black Coyote and the child?”
“Give no further thought to them; they shall not suffer.”
“I thank you, Miss Mona, for what you have done, and I wish you to
remember to call on Buffalo Bill or any of his pards, if you are ever
in trouble or we can in any way be of service to you. Do not hesitate,
especially if you should desire to visit the outside world; then our
advice might save you from many pitfalls.”
“I thank you. When I meet you again I may have a request to make, or,
at least, may wish to ask your advice concerning the future. Good-by.”
She turned away, and the scout and his pards led their steeds out of
the cleft and rode away. They had proceeded barely a hundred rods when,
looking back, they saw Little Moonbeam waving to them from the mountain
top.
“Wouldn’t thet make yer guess some?” exclaimed Nomad. “I’d like ter see
little Yaller Hair when she flies up thar!”
“Don’t be impatient, Nick. We are getting acquainted much faster than
we expected. Perhaps she will give us an exhibition of her aërial
prowess some day. Restrain yourself, pard; she is too rare a bird for
any of our cages.”
“Thet’s all right, Buffler; but when I see er bird thet I cyant ketch,
et do my eyes good ter look at um.”
“I think,” observed the scout quietly, “that we are to have a long,
hard ride to-night.”
“What’s ther sign, Buffler?”
“A party of horsemen came over a ridge to the north of the butte and
are heading this way. I caught but a momentary glimpse of them before
they disappeared, but I think they are Sioux and have seen us.
“Now, boys, the safest way is usually the best way. Let each dismount
and look to his trappings. A broken girth with Indians close in chase
might mean disaster. Also carefully examine your rifles and revolvers
and see that everything is in prime condition. One minute’s time lost
in that way while our animals are puffing may mean several minutes gain
for us in a hot chase.
“You see that long ridge running quartering to us about two miles
distant? Well, they are now behind that, and if they think we have not
seen them they will continue behind that and ride like all-possessed to
head us off if we keep on in this direction.
“Now, when we mount, bear five points or so farther into the south, and
don’t push your horses until we are hard pressed, and then we’ll adopt
tactics which will give the animals a little leeway on the ponies.
“Cayuse, you and Tootsie lead the way and set the pace--not too stiff,
you know, but a good easy lope for the animals. There will be time
enough to run when we know we are being chased. Skibo, you follow
Cayuse and the boy, and Nomad and I will bring up the rear and sort of
regulate the speed of our pursuers.”
Five minutes later the scout called to Cayuse to swing harder into the
south, so the Indians would not be too near when they rounded the end
of the ridge.
“Keep to the right and around the end of the ridge ahead of you, then
swing hard into the east again and make good speed as soon as we are
out of sight; but don’t look around. If the Indians attempt to ride
over the ridge to cut us off they will wind their ponies, after what
they have been giving them.”
The scout had been exactly right in his calculations. Presently a
strong party of perhaps fifty well-mounted Sioux dashed around the
ridge, and apparently expected to be almost upon the white men, who
were as far in the lead as before, riding easily southward, as if
unconscious of the proximity of red warriors, and without a glance
behind them.
It had been Buffalo Bill’s orders that all should be riding
unconcernedly and without looking back, so that the savages would still
think themselves unseen.
The Indians sent their ponies away in full pursuit, hoping to pull well
up on the white riders before being discovered.
The scout had no more than passed from the view of the Indians around
the next ridge before he shouted to Cayuse:
“Now get away at good gait, and hard to the left.”
When the Indians at last rounded the end of the divide they were
surprised at the change of course by their intended victims, and the
gain the fugitives had made on them, and also that the white riders
still seemed to be riding leisurely and were not looking backward.
The whites were now almost at the north end of another ridge that ran
away toward the southwest, and would soon pass from view.
The Indians suspected that they had been tricked by the seemingly
unconcerned white riders. They would not be fooled so again, and, as
soon as the fugitives had passed out of sight, turned their ponies
and urged them with all speed toward the divide and up its long,
wind-breaking rise.
At last they had reached the top, but instead of discovering their prey
just down the other side, swinging into the south again, they were
nowhere in view.
The Indians were puzzled, but urged their tired ponies along the high
land toward the point where the scout and his pards had last been seen.
At the end of the bluff the party was still undiscoverable; but there
was their plain trail leading away into the southeast, and back from
behind another ridge, a mile away, came the clear notes of a bugle.
The red men had been hoodwinked by an old trick of their own.